


Set Me Down in Your Warm Arms

by mythras_fire



Series: Friday Night Chats Plot-Bunny Factory [8]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex deserves all the things, Boys Kissing, Consent Issues, Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Housewarming, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Language, Lots of Cuddling, M/M, Max Evans tries to be a good bro, Mentions of PTSD, Michael is understandably wary, Surprises, because I was feeling salty when I wrote this, soft boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 01:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18885316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythras_fire/pseuds/mythras_fire
Summary: Michael was in the middle of saying, "Thanks bro, means a lot," when something caught his eye and he looked down to see Max's hand glowing with that telltale red light as it gripped Alex's right hand.He looked over at Max, confusion writ large on his face, but Max just winked at him, turned to wrap his arm around Liz's waist, and headed further into the cabin.





	Set Me Down in Your Warm Arms

**Author's Note:**

> bgn will recognize this plot bunny because I blathered on about it for a while when we were chatting the other day :P. It took a weird turn halfway through the writing process, however, because I got slammed with a bunch of work and when I came back to finish writing it eleven days later, I had recently been chatting with Stormy about the finale and Max's cavalier attitude towards Michael which made me mad, and that's when the story went in a direction I had not foreseen when I started writing it. So it's a little more serious than I had originally anticipated, but I hope it still resonates.
> 
> Also, I know nothing about how to care for someone who has PTSD so this is my take on how Michael would do it. 
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters and pop culture references belong to their respective creators. Story title comes from the song _Set the Fire to the Third Bar_ by Snow Patrol.

"Happy housewarming!" Liz yelled as she practically threw herself into Alex's waiting arms. Michael had to do a quick shuffle to the right to avoid getting clocked in the head with the bottle of expensive-looking wine Liz was clutching in her left hand as she swung her arms around Alex's neck in a choke-hold of a hug. Alex didn't look the least bit phased by her climbing him like a tree – apparently this was normal behavior for an over-excited Liz Ortecho – and was grinning like a loon, which of course made Michael grin in return. They were getting sappier every day; Michael loved every second of it.

"Thanks, Lizard!" Alex yelled back, squeezing her until she squeaked and Max had to step in and save his girlfriend from being smushed.

"Lizard?" Michael asked with a raise of his eyebrow as Alex released a rather breathless but still grinning Liz into Max's arms. 

"That's the nickname he gave me in second grade when we went on that field trip to the Zoo," Liz explained, swatting Alex on the arm, "and no amount of me threatening to stop being his best friend could get him to stop calling me that," she leaned towards Michael to stage whisper, "he's very stubborn, you know."

"Really?" Michael smirked, pulling Alex in close to him while feigning ignorance. "I hadn't noticed."

Max stepped forward before Alex could open his big mouth to start an argument with Liz over his stubbornness – an argument he was no doubt going to lose because this was Liz after all – and congratulated Michael and Alex with a heartfelt handshake and straight-man half-hug shoulder-pat. 

"Congratulations to the both of you," Max said with a broad smile as he pumped Alex's hand up and down a few times. "I wish you both a lifetime of health and happiness in your new home."

Michael was in the middle of saying, "Thanks bro, means a lot," when something caught his eye and he looked down to see Max's hand glowing with that telltale red light as it gripped Alex's right hand. 

_What the fuck?_

Michael looked up to see if Alex had noticed it but his boyfriend was too busy thanking Max and cooing over the box of kitchen herbs and aloe vera in cute little terra cotta pots that Max had brought as their housewarming present. 

He looked over at Max, confusion writ large on his face, but Max just winked at him, turned to wrap his arm around Liz's waist, and headed further into the cabin. 

Everyone else was happily chatting away and munching on the platters of crudités Isobel had catered, but only after much griping that Michael had the same taste in food as a caveman just because he wouldn't let her serve pâté. 

He would eat his cowboy hat before he ate pâté.

~*~ 

Later that night, tired and ready to snuggle before they went to sleep, Michael padded into the bedroom from the en suite bathroom in his boxer shorts to see Alex sitting on their bed squeezing a palm of the aloe plant over his stump with his left hand and rubbing the salve into the skin with his right.

"It hadn't occurred to me to try aloe on the dry skin at the end of my leg until your brother presented me with all those cute little terra cotta pots," Alex said, a warmth of appreciation evident in the tone of his voice and the relaxed look on his face.

Michael crawled over to Alex's side of the bed and nuzzled at his neck, just needing to breathe him in after a night of having to keep his hands mostly to himself, something he found rather irksome seeing as how it was his own damn party.

"Mmm, that was very thoughtful of him," Michael would have to remember to thank Max for the cool gift the next time he saw him. But for now, he just wanted to cuddle.

"If you don't watch it, Cowboy, I'm going to get you all dirty with my sticky hands," Alex teased, arching his neck to encourage Michael's inner contrariness to shine through.

"You sure do know how to sweet-talk a guy," Michael purred as his telekinesis picked up the aloe plant and set it down gently on the nightstand so that he didn't have to stop kissing the skin of Alex's collarbone. "Dirty, sticky hands sound like a job well done to me, Private."

Alex giggled and twitched involuntarily when Michael found the sweet spot behind his ear with his lips and unabashedly breathed him in before giving his earlobe a little nibble.

"Yes, well, I don't think aloe tastes as good as you do, but what the hell, be my guest and find out," Alex suggested as Michael tugged the covers up with his mind, careful to leave Alex's aloe-covered stump poking out from under the comforter while it dried. 

"Hmmm, good point. Ok, maybe not," he conceded. 

The sudden sound of water running was followed by the appearance of a damp washcloth magically floating over to Alex's side of the bed. Alex grinned and plucked said washcloth out of the air to wipe off his hands, then scooted down under the covers where Michael was snuggling up against him. "You're going to spoil me rotten, aren't you?"

Michael hmmm'ed again into the hollow of Alex's neck where he was settling in for the night. He recited sleepily into the sweet-smelling skin of Alex's throat, "Step One of the How to Be the Best Boyfriend in the Universe Handbook," he paused to clear his throat dramatically, "Spoil your boyfriend with love in the most organic, simple ways and he will forever know how you feel about him."

The heart skipping a beat beneath his ear told Michael that Step One had been achieved. He smiled as he drifted off to sleep. They weren't so much steps though; they were more like guidelines anyway.

~*~ 

"WAKE THE FUCK UP, GUERIN!"

Michael was awake and alert in 0.25 seconds but he was not prepared to get a pillow to the face. He spluttered as he pushed it aside to take in his surroundings and locate Alex, who sounded like he was having one of _those_ mornings. The kind where he woke up from a night terror and tried to get up and run away from whatever monster was chasing him – usually his dad, sometimes the war, and on particularly bad mornings, a combination of the two – only to fall out of the bed instead since he didn't sleep with his prosthesis on. 

Those mornings were rough and involved a lot of cuddling in the oversized rocking chair they'd bought at a thrift store. The soothing, hypnotic, meditative rocking motion in tandem with Michael singing heartsongs into Alex's hair as they sat all tangled up in each other helped until Alex felt calm and present again. He was always a bit melancholy afterwards and that had worried Michael the first few times it'd happened since he'd moved in, but over time and lots of rocking chair cuddles, the night terrors had receded somewhat and now there seemed to be fewer triggers, for which Michael was grateful.

Alex had also used his last name, which was warning enough that something had gone horribly awry. Ever since they'd gotten back together after all the alien shit went down, Alex had made it a point to always call Michael by his first name, a daily reminder to himself and a promise to Michael of how much he loved him and would fight to keep him. No more running. No more distancing himself. He only called him Guerin now when Michael had seriously fucked up or Alex was seriously scared. He'd been asleep until a few moments ago, so he couldn't have done anything wrong yet, right? Which meant that –

"HOLY SHIT!"

Alex was standing next to the bed in his boxer shorts, his beautiful brown eyes wide with panic, hair wild, and body vibrating with tension. His crutch was still leaning against the wall where it was kept in reserve for when Alex had to pee in the middle of the night. Michael sat up and leaned forward, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. Alex's prosthesis was still propped up next to the night table. Alex was standing next to the bed on two legs. Two flesh and blood legs. Michael reached out and pinched Alex's bicep. Hard.

"Ow!" Alex slapped Michael's hand away. "What'd you do that for, fucker!?"

"Isn't that what you're supposed to do if you're not sure if you're dreaming?"

"Yeah, but you pinch yourself, not me, Michael!"

Michael smiled sheepishly, "Oh yeah, right, sorry," but he wasn't. At least Alex was calling him by his name again, so that meant he'd distracted him at least a little bit. But there was still the matter of –

"Call your brother. NOW." Alex was using his 'we are not amused' tone of voice. His Captain's voice.

Michael wasn't a genius for nothin'. He scrambled out of the bed to find his phone lest he risk the Raised Eyebrow of Doom that went with that voice. Max had some 'splainin' to do. He called his brother.

~*~ 

The aloe vera had apparently been the reactive ingredient in Max's hare-brained scheme to heal Alex's leg as a delayed reaction housewarming gift, or so he said over the phone. Boy was he lucky he couldn't punch him through the telephone line. Michael was beside himself. It was his left hand all over again! A year had passed and he still had flashes of anger over that moment when Max started believing what Noah had prophesized in his madness that fateful night about Max being some sort of savior. He also didn't like the idea that Max had developed the ability to store his healing power for later use.

The first time it happened, later on that afternoon, it took them both completely by surprise. "Make it stop, Michael," Alex whined as he made a _do not want_ face like none Michael'd ever seen.

"Make what stop, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Michael knelt down in front of Alex on the couch, reaching up to smooth out the crease that had appeared on his forehead in between his beautiful eyes.

"Max and Liz – ugh – no, stop, I just ate lunch and I'd like it to stay in my stomach!" Alex pulled Michael forward unceremoniously by his lapels and he almost smothered him against the couch cushions as Alex attempted to basically crawl inside his plaid shirt, being half-way unbuttoned as per usual.

Alex, it turned out, had an echo connection to Max right now because of that sketchy handshake yesterday at their housewarming party. Alex felt nauseated and Michael was ready to tear Max a new one, regrown limb notwithstanding. Luckily for Alex, and Michael's blood pressure, it didn't last long.

The second time it happened, however, when Michael bent over to kiss Alex good morning, instead of a smile and a good morning kiss in return, his boyfriend's face contorted suddenly in a grimace, he groaned plaintively, and rolled over to smother himself under his own pillow this time. Well, Michael had been up half the night thinking and decided to test out a theory he'd postulated in the wee hours.

"Alex, love," he dove under the pillow so he could be heard, "let's beat them at their own game, yeah?"

Alex slowly pulled his head out from under the pillow. His eyes traveled from Michael's wild bedhead of curls down his face to fixate on his lips. His eyes turned molten and a second later he pounced. Michael grinned as he finally got his good morning kiss. They whiled away the morning, making love on the bed, going for a ride in the rocking chair, fucking against the bedroom door now that Alex could properly support Michael's weight again, and were in the middle of choosing which toy to use next when Michael received several texts containing every single pained-looking emoji there was from one Max Evans.

"Did he use the eggplant emoji?" Alex snickered as he kissed his way down Michael's treasure trail, having made his selection. He was feeling much better now and the echo had thankfully dissipated.

"Oh yeah. And the white flag emoji. Like, five times. I think that means we won," he crowed. "Well done, Private." That'll teach Max to use his powers without asking first. He'd thank him later. Maybe.

"Thanks, Cowboy. Now here, put this on." He handed him a blindfold, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Michael sent Max the cowboy emoji, chucked his phone, and did as he was told, eyes shining with love.


End file.
